


Lucky Thirteen

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, But the vaguest London ever, Casual Sex, Come Shot, Condoms, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, European Union politics, Handcuffs, Hook-Up, Hungarian Mitaka, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, London, M/M, Medical Jargon, Medical School, Mild Kink, Open Marriage, Porn with Politics, Rough Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smoking, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, more like tones, morphing into moderate kink, via phone app
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: It's the day of Dopheld Mitaka's graduation from medical school, and during the reception he checks the hook-up app on his phone only to find Dr Hux, his former professor and current subject of lust, listed as active and nearby. Mitaka puts his introversion and social anxiety to the side for once and sends a message.





	Lucky Thirteen

Last week Dopheld finally bit the bullet and purchased a proper smart phone, trading in his POS Blackberry for an Android Samsung. He told himself the move was for professional reasons, as he’ll now be able to download multiple apps he can use once his residency begins: Epocrates, the Sanford Guide, all the NICE pathways for treatment. But there was something else behind the decision, something he won’t easily admit to himself and would only confess aloud after a long water-boarding session.

He wants access to Grindr. He wants to see what it’s all about, see if it’ll change his string of shitty luck with men or at least point him in the direction of a few good flings.

Of course, med school had gotten in the way of having a decent sex life. It might not all be the fault of his nervous disposition and his hobby of overthinking everything when it comes to his personal life.

It’s the night before graduation and he is just returning to his flat from a long and tedious dinner with his parents.

“We’re so proud of you, Dopheld.”

Tight smiles and terse nods. Dopheld feels it would have been easier with just his mother, but his father’s presence always complicates matters. Janoš Mitaka does not permit the discussion of homosexuality, making it impossible to even reference Dopheld’s dating life, or lack thereof. It is best not to bring up topics such as politics, immigration, or religion, either, as his father will invariably veer into a tirade against “liberalism” prior to boosting his own favourite politician, Viktor Orban, a “lone defender against the barbarian hordes at the gates.” At these points, Zsofia Mitaka looks across the table with a raise of her eyebrows and a mouthed “Sorry.” That somehow makes it worse, knowing that his mother doesn’t agree yet never speaks up.

Shrugging that off now, Dopheld wakes up his new phone and opens the app store, types in g-r-i—and the rest autopopulates.

Install.

Open.

He is prompted to select a profile photo. But it’s a new phone and he doesn’t have any selfies. He takes a picture, scowls at the result, takes another. Fifteen minutes later, he has a serviceable picture of his face in 2/3 profile, which he crops and submits for approval. In the meantime, he is informed, he should fill out the rest of his profile.

Age (twenty-six), height (one hundred seventy-eight cm), weight (seventy kilos). Tribe? What the fuck is that? Scrolling through the drop-down list, he recognises various gay archetypes. Jock, twink, daddy, bear. He doesn’t feel as though he fits any of those. The closest is likely twink, but he must be too mature for that—he’s being awarded a doctorate tomorrow, for fuck’s sake—and he has too much body hair. By process of elimination, he chooses Nerd. He certainly is that.

HIV status: Negative. Last tested: January. It sounds a long way ago, but he hasn’t gotten laid since then.

Looking for? Ah, that’s a tough call. He isn’t going to pretend that he’s here for “networking” or “friends.” But he feels cheap only ticking the “right now” box. So he also pokes “dates” and “chatting” because why not, right?

As an introvert with a high libido, dating has always been tough. This might help.

It might go up in flames.

Now he has to come up with a profile message. Should go with something simple for now, he can always edit it later.

_Overworked and under-rested grad student seeks stress relief._

Shrugging mentally, he figures a bit of honesty won’t kill him.

 

 

Walking out into the hallway during the reception after the ceremony, he digs his phone out from under his robes and switches it on. The lockscreen displays a notification logo and—yeah, he’ll have to change that. He can’t go around his residency program with his phone announcing that he has new messages on Grindr.

But for now he opens the app, reads a notice that his picture has been approved, and flips to the message screen. Several people with faceless profiles have contacted him:

1) Hey

2) hi

3) [dick pic]

Rolling his eyes, he thumbs back to the main screen, the one with profile photos of nearby and active members and—

Fuck. It can’t be.

He stares at the screen, dumbly brings it closer to his face, then out again, blinking repeatedly. He taps the picture for a closer look and yes, yes it is.

It’s Dr Hux. One of his professors—well, previous professors. And not just some professor, but That One. The man he has been lusting after for four fucking years. His picture is gorgeous: well-lit to accentuate the warmth of his red hair, making his pale skin and bright green eyes appear to glow. The man’s beauty is otherworldly.

It takes Dopheld about a minute to realise that the profile has a green circle indicating the user is currently active.

_He’s checking his phone, too._

_Oh, shit! He could see me right back._

Dopheld clicks to his home screen and breathes. He glances around the room, half-hoping and half-fearing to see Hux. But all the professors are in regalia, so he wouldn’t easily recognise him right now anyway. The man could be nearly beside him before Dopheld would notice.

He doesn’t know how the algorithm works, but it stands to reason that if a guy shows up on your screen, you’d appear on his. Dopheld tries to estimate the chances that Hux has seen his picture, and puts it above fifty percent.

Dopheld finds Phasma easily and deposits his cap and robe with her.

“Smoke one for me, would you?” she asks with a helpless look. “I can’t get away from my parents long enough.”

“Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

“What’s up with you? You look spooked. Or ataxic.”

“I’m fine. I’ll tell you more when I get back in and have some nicotine and carbon monoxide on board.” With that, he rushes outside and around the corner, ducking away from the main entrance to avoid the harping that always follows the medical student still dumb enough to smoke. He doesn’t want to defend his poor decisions right now.

Instead he wants to think about Armitage Hux, MD, PhD. Because he’s the sort of bastard with two doctorates.

Lighting the cigarette, he takes a drag and with his hands steadying, looks back at his phone. Maximises the window. Hux is still there, on the topmost row, second from the left. Still Active.

Dopheld hits the message icon, and types: _Afternoon, Doctor._

He hits the send arrow before he can think better of it. He stares at the screen and sucks in smoke, waiting, trying to will a response into being. Then he remembers he hasn’t yet turned off notifications and that his phone will alert him when Hux responds. _If_ Hux responds.

Hux will likely do the professional thing and ignore him.

Dopheld is about to close out to the main screen again when a response appears.

_—Good afternoon yourself, Doctor._

His throat closes around the smoke in his windpipe.

 _—I believe congratulations are in order_ , Hux adds.

_—Thank you._

_—Do you think a celebratory drink would help in your pursuit of stress relief?_

Dopheld’s brow wrinkles before he remembers his profile note. Hux has taken the opportunity to look over his profile. Temporarily elated at the attention, he recalls the rest of it. _Verse bottom, looking for right now._

Wow, he must look super classy. But it makes him wonder what Hux’s says. He checks.

> _Age: 38. Height: 190 cm_. _Weight 82 kg. Tribe: (No selection). Position: verse top. Looking for: right now, dates._
> 
> _Grumpy professional/academic looking to while away the small hours with pretty men. Kink a plus but not a must._

Dopheld is going to die before he can get back inside, because Armitage Hux is looking to fuck pretty men and has just asked him out for a drink. This is how it will end: a burst aortic aneurysm that no one knew he had.

At least he’ll die with an MD after his name.

_D: I’d love one._

_H: I’ve never seen you on here before._

_D: New phone, new app._

_H: Ah. If you’d like, we could head out soon. I have nothing keeping me here._

_D: I’m free. Parents finally left._

_H: Fantastic. I’ll meet you by the lift in ten minutes?_

There is no way it can be this easy.

 

 

Dopheld retrieves his cap and gown from Phasma, throws them back on haphazardly, and rushes toward the lift.

“I thought you were going to explain!” she shouts back after him.

He waves a hand in the air wildly and yells, “I will! Later!”

By the time he gets to the lift, Dr Hux is standing by the doors, already waiting.  His own cap—soft, not a mortarboard like Dopheld’s—is held crumpled in one hand, so Mitaka easily recognises him by the shock of ginger hair. Dopheld has never been with a redhead, but ever since the first lecture Hux gave, he has spent a good deal of time fantasising about it.

Hux turns with a quick smile and extends his hand. Dopheld takes it in his, finds the man’s fingers quite cool to the touch. He seems perfectly composed, not at all ruffled by the prospect of a dalliance with a former student.

“Congratulations, Doctor Mitaka.”

“Thank you, Doctor Hux.”

The man’s responding smile appears to be more reflexive than genuine, but the look in his eyes is kind enough. “I loathe these robes,” he admits sotto voce.

“I rather like them. They’re very… medieval.”

“Precisely. Not a time period that holds much drawing power for me.” Flicking his gaze over Dopheld’s form, he adds, “But I don’t mind the sight of you in them.”

Flushing, Dopheld steps into the lift. Hux follows him, as do three others: a classmate accompanied by her parents.

“Level?” Hux asks the trio.

“B1, please.”

Dopheld watches Hux’s graceful finger depress the B1 and then B3 buttons. He lets out a gust of air in relief. They’ll have the lift to themselves soon, if only for two floors.

“How did you arrive?” Hux asks once the group parades out of the doors.

“Hitched a ride with my flatmate. No car of my own.”

Nodding, the professor narrows his eyes. “I did the same. My car is at home. Parking for graduation is always a monumental disaster.”

“Cab?” Dopheld asks hopefully. He doesn’t want lack of transport to derail this.

“There are a few decent places within walking distance. We can hail a cab from there. Have you been to Bala Tik’s?”

“No. Is it expensive?”

“No,” Hux laughs, shaking his head. “It’s a dive. But it’s cozy.”

“Is it… safe?”

“Do you mean welcoming? For the LGBT types?” Watching Dopheld nod, he answers, “Yes. Otherwise I wouldn’t spend my money there.”

They exit through the parking garage, at which point Hux pulls his robe over his head and folds it away with his cap into his briefcase. Then the professor asks Dopheld if he would like to stow his regalia as well, and the graduate gratefully accepts the offer. Mitaka is feeling overheated already.

 

 

The pub is dim, likely a conscious decision by the proprietor to help hide its dinginess. At the bar, Hux asks Dopheld what he’d like (given the limited options on draught) and orders a Guinness for himself and a Newcastle for his guest. Hux insists on paying and Dopheld is startled that his beer costs more here in a cheap bar in its country of origin than it does in Hungary, after travelling across the Channel and then through several border checks. Economics as a field baffles him.

“Do you take students out for drinks often?” Dopheld asks once they’ve settled into a two-person booth. The table is small enough that beneath it their knees brush against one another. Mitaka’s throat feels parched at this discovery and he bolts down a sizable gulp from his ale to counteract it.

“No,” Hux answers tersely. “I do not. But _you_ are no longer a student.”

True, but the change in designation is so new that it feels meaningless. “I’m sorry,” he babbles. “I don’t—this is my first time—”

Hux gives him a sudden, intent look.

“I mean, like I said, it’s a new app, I don’t know how this is supposed to go.” He hadn’t meant for the professor to misunderstand him, to suspect that he was so new to hookups as to be a virgin. And yet he feels more nervous than warranted, maybe because it’s been nearly a year since he had a partner, maybe because of this particular potential partner. Maybe a combination of both. Sensing that his palms are becoming sweaty, he places them both on the table and instantly regrets it as his skin sticks to the less-than-pristine surface.

“Dopheld,” Hux soothes, reaching his hand out to lay it over Dopheld’s. “There’s no flowchart. It’s simply a tool for getting what one wants.”

“And you want…” Dopheld swallows as he brings up the wording from Hux’s profile, no longer concerned with the cleanliness of the tabletop, not now that Dr Hux’s skin is touching his. “Pretty men with whom to while away some time.”

“Yes, as you want stress relief. I’d like to try to provide that for you.”

“You mean—”

“I mean,” Hux says, his voice dropped low as he leans in close across the table, “I want to fuck you.”

“Oh, my God, this cannot be happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s what I’ve wanted for four damn years.”

“You could’ve just found someone to roleplay a student/teacher scene,” Hux points out, swirling the remaining beer around the bottom of his glass.

“No, I mean you. You’re what I’ve wanted.”

“Ah,” Hux says, blinking slowly as he sets the glass down with a sudden thunk. “I see. Well, that was unexpected information. But very much appreciated.” Under the table, he squeezes Dopheld’s knees between his thighs. “Because you are _absolutely_ my type.”

Taking a deep breath, Dopheld catalogues pertinent bits of physical information currently received by his senses. His legs are pinned together by Dr Hux’s lean but surprisingly strong body. The redhead is staring openly at him and licking his lips. The space between Dopheld’s right index and middle fingers itches. “I—I think I need a cigarette,” he announces shakily, and once he says it aloud, he knows it’s true. Stepping outside in the late spring air and inhaling measured doses of nicotine (and tar, and carbon monoxide, and at least eighty-five other identified compounds) will do wonders for sorting out the contents of his mind.

“You smoke?”

Instantly frowning, Dopheld assumes the role of apologetic defendant. “I know. I need to quit, but school was so—”

“Don’t bother explaining,” Hux says, waving Dopheld’s excuses aside with a dismissive hand. “I smoke, too. It’s a nasty but thoroughly enjoyable habit that I am unwilling to break.”

It’s official: Dopheld will be attending Mass tomorrow to thank God in person for this. He watches out of the corner of his vision as Hux stands and throws on his jacket, then turns his head and accepts the professor’s outstretched hand. Once Hux has helped him to a standing position, the hand moves to rest on the small of Dopheld’s back. They head outside together like that.

“What’s your brand?” the redhead asks, slipping his free hand into a pocket to retrieve his pack. Rothman’s International.

Dopheld frowns briefly and pulls out his battered pack of Pall Mall reds. He shouldn’t be surprised to be outclassed by this man. Hux has a decade of adulthood and a consulting endocrinologist’s paychecks on him.

Letting go of Dopheld to light his cigarette, Hux inhales, leans back against the wall, and speaks. “There’s something that a lot of men don’t notice in my profile, so I ought to bring it up now.”

Dopheld reviews it in his head, feeling his stomach drop as he figures this must mean Hux is HIV-positive. He could have sworn he’d checked, and now he’ll feel like such an asshole for ducking out at this juncture. Or is he willing to—Perhaps if Hux’s levels are undetectable—There is PrEP—

“I’m in a relationship.”

“Oh.”

“To be accurate, I’m married.”

“To a—”

“Man. But we swing a bit. Mostly me. He finds it very time-consuming to vet and meet new partners. Meaning he is a bit of a lazy shut-in and would usually prefer to have me do the leg work and then tell him about it later.”

“Oh,” Mitaka repeats.

“So, if that’s something that upsets you, we shouldn’t proceed.”

Holding his cigarette out in front of his face to give him something to stare at while responding, Dopheld says, “I’m not looking for a boyfriend here. And as long as you’re not being unfaithful, and as long as we’re safe, I’m good.”

Turning toward him, Hux leans in so that his lips brush Dopheld’s ear. “Do you mind the thought that I will be sharing the details of our time together with him?”

Dopheld blushes but shakes his head. “No, that’s fine.”

“Fantastic. I’m about ready to head out, if you are.”

“Where to?” If Hux’s husband is at home, they may have rules in place eliminating that location. Which would mean Dopheld’s cramped apartment that he shares with Phasma and her wretched cat. What if Hux is allergic? What if Phasma is back already? They could go to a hotel, but Dopheld would insist on picking up half the tab, he couldn’t possibly expect Hux to pay for everything. The drink was bad enough, and that was just £6. Shit, should he feel obliged to repay that somehow? What would £6 worth of blowjob look like?

“You’re welcome to come to my place. Kylo is out tonight with his cousin, and they’re usually out until a ridiculous hour. And even if he does come back while you’re there, it won’t be an issue.”

“That sounds good.” Does it? Sound good?

 

 

In the cab, Hux pulls Dopheld nearly into his lap and whispers in his ear. “Are you into kink at all?”

“What, like bondage?” Dopheld asks, instantly imagining Dr Hux roping him to a bed and spanking the living hell out of him. Pulling himself back from the reverie, he notices his respiratory rate is close to panting level.

“Like that.”

“Some. Haven’t done much,” he admits. “But I tend to be pretty submissive. I like to please people.” He clears his throat and clarifies. “Men. I like to please men.”

Hux smells his hair and sighs. “Perfect. I want to hold you down and—”

“Yes,” Dopheld agrees before the sentence is even over.

“I’ll hold you down and make you bloody well squirm for me.”

Dopheld is already squirming in Hux’s hands. He looks up at the roof of the cab and wants to send flowers to this country where he can talk dirty to a man in the back of a taxi and not risk the end of his career. “What if I try to escape?”

“I’ll chase you down and haul you back to the bed by your hair. Then I’ll tie you to the posts to keep you where I want you.”

“Fuck,” Dopheld groans. “Do you—would you bite me? I like that.”

“Dopheld, if it’s what you want, by the time you leave, you’re going to look like you were attacked by a vampire with dentures.”

He laughs so hard he nearly wets himself.

Hux pulls out his phone and begins tapping out a message. Dopheld politely averts his eyes, but Hux speaks up to explain. “I’m letting Kylo know that I’ll be bringing you home. That way if he shows up early, he won’t be surprised.” He rests the phone on his lap and reaches a hand around to play with the hair at the base of Dopheld’s skull. “How old are you?”

“Twenty six.”

“So young. And you look even younger. Twenty two, perhaps. So sweet-faced and—” His phone buzzes. He unlocks it and shows Dopheld the message.

_Kylo: Sounds good. Can I see a picture of him?_

Raising an eyebrow in inquiry, Hux holds up the phone. Dopheld leans back and gives a shy smile. Hux snaps a photo and sends it along. The phone vibrates again almost instantly.

_Kylo: Beautiful._

_Hux: I have good taste._

_Kylo: Yes, you do._

Dopheld warms at the compliment, as odd as it is to receive one from his date’s husband. Hux slips his phone back inside his jacket pocket and then rests his hand high up on Dopheld’s thigh. He leans in against his former professor and whispers, “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

“As do I. But let’s wait until we can really pay attention. We’re almost there.” Speaking up and leaning forward, Hux tells the cabbie, “Just up here on the right. Anywhere is fine, thanks.”

Dopheld stands on the sidewalk and pulls out a cigarette as Hux settles the bill. After accepting the tip, the cabbie inclines his head at Dopheld and tells Hux, “You two have a good night now, lads.”

Grinning widely, Hux turns back to Dopheld. He reaches for his own cigarettes and lights one. Dopheld stands close and says, “Can I try some of yours?”

Hux twists his wrist, offering his own cigarette to Dopheld, who leans over to catch the end between his lips. It’s the closest they have come to kissing: sharing this filter. Dopheld senses the slight moisture from Hux’s mouth, imagines he can taste him on it. Taking a drag, he pulls away, breathes the smoke up into the air above their heads.

“What do you think?” Hux asks.

“Not bad, but I still prefer my own.” With that, he lights his Pall Mall.

Hux comes in and nuzzles at his ear. “I remember very clearly a lecture I gave on thyroid storm and myxedema coma.”

“Mm. That was an engaging one.” Dopheld had appreciated the way that Hux had presented the two emergencies as flipsides of one another. It put everything in a framework where one could logically deduce forgotten details.

“You derailed me twice. I caught you looking at me and simply could not focus.”

“Why not?” Dopheld whispers, not daring to imagine.

“Because all I could think about was your mouth. To be specific, kissing it.”

Taking the hint, Dopheld takes hold of Hux by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him in, presses their lips together. Hux places a thumb on the jut of Dopheld’s chin and guides his jaw open, slides his tongue inside. Dopheld gasps directly into Hux’s mouth. Hux puts both hands around Dopheld’s waist and spreads his fingers out to grasp as much flesh as he can. Dopheld widens his stance and presses his entire torso against Hux’s chest.

“Inside,” Hux announces, flicking his cigarette end away into the street. Dopheld follows suit and turns to walk up the stairs to the front door. Although Hux’s jacket reaches to the back of his knees, Dopheld still attempts to determine what his ass looks like.

They make it just inside the door before Hux reaches for him. Their lips meet again, chilled a bit from the cool evening air. He slips his hands under the graduate’s jacket, and Dopheld shrugs it off onto the floor. His hands slide down Dopheld’s back.

“I’d let you fuck me right here,” Dopheld exhales. He looks up into Hux’s eyes and finds them dark with desire.

“No. Let’s do this properly.” Bending over to pick up the discarded jacket, he hangs it on a hook behind the door, then places his own beside it. He takes hold of Dopheld’s wrist in one hand and leads him along the entryway. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks.” Dopheld doesn’t want to postpone this any further. The grip on his wrist tightens and Hux leads him up the stairs, down another hallway.

Opening the second door on the left, Hux explains, “Guest bedroom.”

“Good,” Dopheld says aloud, only now realising that he had felt nervous about using a marriage bed for their tryst. “Ah, could I—”

“Yes?”

“Toilet?” he asks.

“Of course.” Hux points to the door they’d just passed. “That’s the one. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Dopheld shuts the door behind him and, standing in front of the mirror, centres himself. He checks in with his breaths, notices they’re coming shallow and fast, admits he is nervous, and then purposefully deepens his intake of air. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. He opens his eyes and walks to the toilet.

He wasn’t planning on getting fucked today, hadn’t even been actively hoping for it, so he needs to prep as best he can now. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he uses his fingers and warm water.

Standing and flushing, he scrubs his hands with soap and hot water and peers up in to the mirror again. He looks calmer, feels steadier. He opens the door.

 

 

When Dopheld walks into the bedroom, Hux is sitting on the edge of the mattress with his removed shoes sitting by his socked feet. The man’s head snaps up and he gives Dopheld a quick smile.

“Come here,” he beckons, waving his hand.

Stepping up to him, Dopheld stands between Hux’s legs and leans down to kiss him.

“Sit on my lap.” Hux squeezes the seat of Dopheld’s pants. “Nice arse,” he whispers, continuing to caress the mentioned area.

“Thanks.”

“Let’s talk kink for a moment. As I mentioned in my profile, I don’t require it to get off, but I greatly appreciate it. You tell me you’re somewhat submissive and that you enjoy being bitten. It’s a good start, but do tell me more.”

“I—like it when men tell me what to do. When they… take control.”

“Gentle guidance or sharp orders?” Hux asks, lightly massaging Mitaka’s upper arms.

“I’ve only received the first, but I’d like to try more.”

“Restraints?”

“Um.” He thinks back. “I had a boyfriend put me in a pair of handcuffs once. Flimsy ones, though.” They’d been too cheap to take seriously, and both participants had given up on the scene quickly.

“Did they have an outside release mechanism?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Tapping a fingertip against the hollow of Dopheld’s collarbone, Hux muses, “Well, if you’re interested, I have a proper pair. Police-issue. Locked by key.”

“Yes, please,” Dopheld chirps brightly before placing a kiss on Hux’s left cheekbone.

“Anything much more ambitious would require further negotiation. Still, do you have a safeword?”

“Ah, not as such.”

Hux raises the finger to tap Mitaka’s nose with the tip a single time. “Choose one.”

Blinking as he briefly contemplates options, Mitaka gives a slight smile and blurts out, “Myxedema.”

“Hah!” Hux laughs. Then his expression becomes sterner. “You’re criminally adorable.”

“Yes?” Dopheld knowingly teases. “Then perhaps I should be punished for it?”

“Oh, you’re an eager one. Let’s get started, then.” Hux reaches up to straighten his own collar. “Would you be interested in a scene in which you’re still my student?”

Dopheld nods. “Very much so, Dr Hux.”

“Fantastic. I’ll want you to call me ‘Professor,’ ‘Doctor’, or ‘sir’ until we’re done here,” he insists.

“Yes, Professor,” Dopheld agrees easily. It’s one of the simplest deals he has ever made.

Clearing his throat, Hux straightens his back. “Well. It turns out you’ve had a bit of an unprofessional interest in me.” Tilting his head to the side, Hux gives the young man an searching look. “Come now, Dopheld. Be honest.”

“Yes, sir,” Dopheld answers a bit hoarsely. “It’s true.”

“I really shouldn’t have asked you out for drinks, you being a student and all. But this is grad school and you’re an adult. Tell me what you’ve thought about doing.”

Suddenly he isn’t certain of Hux’s meaning, and doubts his English for the first time in years. “Doing—” Dopheld begins to ask for clarification, but his voice cracks and Hux interrupts him.

“With me. I figure you must have imagined things. Probably when you were alone—”

“Oh,” Dopheld murmurs, understanding now and blushing from it.

“Touching yourself. Thinking of…” Here he trails off, waiting for Dopheld to fill in the rest.

“You. And me, together. Yes, sir. I did,” Dopheld admits. “Frequently.” In this playact, it’s oddly easy for him to admit to something he hardly would have confessed under duress. Jerking off to the thought of one’s professor cornering one in an empty lecture hall is surely nothing to be proud about.

Shaking his head, Hux clicks his tongue. “Dear, oh dear.”

“I always started by blowing you, Professor.”

“That, Dopheld,” Hux answers with a curt nod, “is an excellent idea.”

Rather shakily, Dopheld rises from Hux’s lap and stands between his legs. He gets to his knees and glances back up at the professor’s face. Hux has a vague smile on his lips, is looking aloof. Dopheld reaches for his belt buckle. Hux’s fingers rise to his own throat and slowly release the buttons on his shirt. Dopheld pulls the belt free, then chooses to curl it up and set it on the floor beside him. It just seems that Hux would appreciate such tidiness.

Hux splays his fingers out and, using his palms to brace himself, leans back to give Dopheld better access to his lap. Dopheld opens the top button, takes hold of the zipper tab, and reminds himself to take a good breath before he proceeds. There isn’t much free room in the front of Hux’s trousers, as they’re tailored to hug his frame and because of the way his cock is already filling them out. Dopheld is tempted to squeeze the line of Hux’s erection through the cloth, but he’d rather touch it directly. He nudges the zip down. Down. Down.

Finally, Hux’s fly parts and Dopheld reaches in, dipping his fingertips below the waistband of the briefs, and brushes against it. Heat. Soft skin stretched tight. Hux does him a favour and raises his hips to help him shrug the fabric down to his knees.

Dopheld whines at the sight of Hux’s full cock rising from a well-groomed tuft of ginger curls.

Hux cups Dopheld’s chin in one hand and whispers, “Go on.”

“Yes, sir,” the former student agrees hoarsely. Curling his thumb and forefinger in a loose circle, Dopheld gently pulls the prepuce down to fully expose the glans. A clear bead of precome forms on the slit, and Dopheld immediately ducks his head to lick it up.

“Fuck,” Hux whispers.

“Mm,” Dopheld answers. It’s sweet. He drags the tip of his tongue across his lips, wanting to taste more. But he’ll have to go to the source for that.

“Dopheld,” Hux begins, his voice more authoritative than before. “Don’t tease. Suck me off.”

“Yes, Professor,” Dopheld agrees, and his voice sounds very young and enthusiastic even in his own ears. He opens his mouth and closes his lips just below the head. Applies light suction and hell, Hux tastes fantastic. His skin smells of some faintly scented soap: lemon verbena, perhaps. Dopheld could spend _hours_ doing this, just running his tongue in circles, laving across the slit, dipping beneath the foreskin, tickling the frenulum.

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” Hux moans, staring down with his mouth agape. “Where did you learn to do this? You’re phenomenal.”

Cracking a smile, Dopheld pulls off to respond. “Loads of practise.”

“Lucky them. Lucky me.”

Dopheld smiles to himself.

Laying a hand on the top of Dopheld’s head, Hux murmurs, “I’m going to relish cuffing you and fucking you on all fours. As hard as I can.”

Dopheld outright groans. “God,” he mumbles, his mouth mostly full.

“Are you vocal? When you’ve a cock up your arse?”

“I—sometimes, sir.”

“Mm. Good. I intend to find out if I can make you scream. But for now, darling, why don’t you show me how far down you can go?”

Giving the redhead a tiny sideways smirk, Dopheld sinks closer to Hux’s lap, inch by inch passing over his tongue and into his throat. He knows he can take it all. He’s swallowed more, back during his Cambridge years.

“Holy…” Hux’s whisper fades in astonishment. Breathing heavily, he curls his fingers into Dopheld’s hair. “Yes. Just hold it—hold it down.”

Raising his eyes to glance up at Hux, Dopheld reflexively swallows, and the professor curses at the wave of pressure around him.

“May I—Dopheld, can I hold you down?”

Dopheld backs off entirely, sitting on his heels and using his right hand to slowly stroke Hux as he asks, “You want to throat-fuck me?” he teases. “Sir?”

“Christ, yes.” Placing a soft kiss on his former student’s forehead, he orders lightly, “Stay right where you are.”

Hux rises and leaves the bed. Dopheld turns his head to watch as the redhead goes to the dresser and slides the top drawer open, wondering what the man is looking for. What else do they need?

Then Hux lifts his hand, dangling something metallic that catches the light.

“Oh, right,” Dopheld says aloud. Handcuffs. Yes, he’d nearly forgotten.

“As threatened,” Hux explains. “If you’re still interested.”

“Please, sir.”

“We’ll need to get your shirt off. Lift your arms up. There.” Hux clicks his tongue in approval. “Yes, good,” he declares, looking Dopheld’s chest over. “You’re rather fit.”

“I exercise when I’m stressed, Professor.”

With a generous smile, Hux concludes, “A habit that has served you quite well. Now, back to business.” Holding the handcuffs up, he leans down and positions Dopheld’s hands behind his back. After snapping the metal closed around the student’s wrists, the professor hangs the chain with the key around his neck like military dogtags. “Remember, you have a safe word. And if you can’t speak—”

“Say from having a mouthful of dick, Doctor?”

“Indeed,” Hux agrees with a soft chuckle. “You can look at me and blink three times in a row. Show me.”

Dopheld performs the silent code and Hux nods in approval. “Go ahead, sir. Fuck my face.”

“I will, Dopheld.” His fingers grip Dopheld’s hair tightly, almost possessively, as he pulls him in. “Open your mouth, you pretty thing. I’ll give you a taste of what I’ll be doing to your arse.”

“Please _do_ , Prof—” Dopheld begs shamelessly before Hux cuts him off by sliding into his mouth.

Rising to his feet, Hux holds Dopheld’s face against his crotch. “Yes. Allow me to use you.” He thrusts slowly, deeply, taking his pleasure at his own pace. Dopheld splutters for breath but doesn’t even attempt to back off. “Good boy, letting me take advantage of your body.”

 _God, yes._ This is what Dopheld has been looking for: someone authoritative, with a firm hand and a wealth of experience that he himself lacks but craves. When Hux releases his hold, giving him a moment to catch his breath, Dopheld murmurs, “It isn’t taking advantage if it’s what I want, sir.”

Laughing fondly, Hux ruffles Dopheld’s hair and agrees, “You’re turning out to be quite the little deviant, aren’t you?”

“For you, Doctor, I’m a filthy slut.”

“Ohhh,” the redhead breathes. “In that case, I’ll be treating you like it.”

“I certainly hope so, sir.”

With a grin that shows plenty of teeth, Hux pulls Dopheld back in and proceeds to hammer into his throat. Several minutes later, Hux sits down on the edge of the mattress and shakes his head. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself.”

Dopheld glances down and in doing so, a thick string of saliva drips onto his chest. He stares in horror and attempts to wipe his chin off on his shoulder.

“Don’t concern yourself with it.”

“But I’m a _mess_ ,” Dopheld bitches.

“A hot mess.” Hux grips his chin and forces his face up. “One consequence of sloppy fellatio is winding up in a state such as this. I see it as a sign of your dedication to your duties.”

“My… duties, sir?”

“Yes. Don’t pretend you aren’t here to serve my whims, to satisfy my needs?”

“Oh.” He hadn’t thought of it that way; he’d come here in hopes of finally satisfying all those semesters of his own lust for Hux.

“Please,” Hux says dismissively. “You’re shirtless, with your arms cuffed behind your back and drool on your face from sucking my dick. Did you imagine this was a date?”

“Not really, sir.” Not when it started with casually opening an app on his phone.

“Good. I brought you home to get me hard, then wet, then off.”

Laughing, Dopheld proudly states, “I’ve already done the first two, sir.”

“Indeed you have. Get to your feet.” Hux unbuttons Dopheld’s trousers and lets them fall to the floor. He does the same with the student’s boxer-briefs. “Turn around. Bend over.” Hux remains seated and reaches out with both hands to spread Dopheld’s cheeks. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Hux spits into a palm and works it over two fingertips. Keeping Dopheld’s cleft spread, Hux presses the pad of his index finger against his pucker. The young man lets out a reedy whine. “You desperately want to be fucked, don’t you?”

“Please, Dr Hux. And soon.”

Removing the key from his neck, Hux unlocks the cuffs and gives Dopheld a slap on the rear in encouragement. “Onto the bed with you, then.”

Scrambling onto the mattress, Dopheld sits cross-legged by the pillows and folds his hands in his lap. Hux rises and moves to the bedside table. Sliding the drawer open, he removes two items from it: a bottle of lubricant and a condom packet.

“Are you clean?” Dopheld asks, watching from his perch.

“Yes. I haven’t had any new partners since my last test.”

“Same. So…” he lets the question hang in the air, but is certain his meaning is clear. _So, why don’t you have me bare?_

“No. Condom use with each new partner.”

Annoyed, Dopheld wrinkles his nose but holds his hands up in defeat. “Fine,” he sighs with a pout and crosses his arms over his bare chest, not caring that he appears to be sulking. He _is_ sulking.

Hux turns to face him, and with the back-lighting from the table lamp, his expression is so serious it’s nearly dire. “You know more than most what the stakes are. If we continue in this, we should both be tested again and share those results. Then we can proceed without a barrier.”

He knows Hux is right, but so far this evening has been better than his imagination… and condoms never made an appearance in his fantasies. “I understand.”

Hux pats Dopheld’s head, then orders, “Hands and knees, Dopheld.” Hopping onto the bed with a spryness that surprises his former student, Hux wraps an arm around Dopheld’s chest and nips an earlobe with his teeth. “I’m going to pin your arms behind your back again, then have you like that.” While he speaks, he teases Dopheld’s pucker with a few slicked fingertips. “Using the chain as leverage, like a handle.”

Dopheld’s cock taps against his belly in agreement. “Yes. Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Hux prompts, stilling his hand.

“Yes, Professor Hux.”

“There’s a good boy. Give me your hands.” The cuffs close around his wrists once more. Hux replaces his improvised necklace and kisses the side of Dopheld’s face. “Now spread your legs for me.”

Dopheld shuffles his knees apart, unsure of whether he should remain upright or not. Usually in the past he has been penetrated while on all fours or lying down. This is different, and he doesn’t know how the angling will work, so hopefully Hux knows what he’s doing—

His thoughts snap back to the moment as Hux slides two fingers inside him and begins to work them back and forth. “Christ Almighty, you’re so warm inside. You’re going to melt me.” Sighing, Hux places his other hand on the small of Dopheld’s back. “Curve your arse out a bit. Yes, there. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaving one finger inside Dopheld, Hux busies himself with opening and unrolling the condom onto his erection. “I can’t wait,” he murmurs, speaking more to himself than to Dopheld while he adds more slick to the barrier. “Going to—to fuck you. So hard.” Then he removes the digit, takes hold of his wrapped dick, and angles up—and in.

“Fuck,” Dopheld groans, giving the word multiple syllables.

“Do you need a moment?”

Shaking his head, Dopheld insists, “No, Doctor Hux. Go ahead and— _Yes!_ ” He shouts his assent as Hux snaps his hips forward.

“That’s it. I know you can take it. You’re the one who contacted me on a hook-up app. Stands to reason you know how to be ploughed.”

Laughing silently so that the only give-away is the shaking of his shoulders, Dopheld answers, “Yes, though it has been too long.”

“Not much of a med school partier?” Hux teases. “Because you would’ve been quite a hit at an all-night binge.”

“I’m too introverted for that sort of thing,” Mitaka explains. He knows he could have had plenty more partners by now, but studying and sleep have taken precedence these past eight years, between university and med school. Unfortunately, this trend isn’t likely to improve much with the advent of residency.

“Ah, but cocaine would temporarily fix that.”

His laugh is now full-force. “You _must_ be kidding.” He nearly neglects to add, “Sir.”

“Only partially. God, you’re even tighter than I used to imagine.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” Dopheld glances over his shoulder and gapes at the sight of Hux, strands of red hair falling across his eyes, a flush creeping across his bare collarbone, wearing nothing but the key for the cuffs dangling around his neck.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I may have wanked to the thought of you a few times.” His voice turning lower, Hux admits, “It was so unprofessional of me. To imagine buggering one of my own students. Because I have control over some of your marks. And you’re so _young._ ”

Dopheld feels compelled to point out, “Hardly innocent, though.”

“How many men?” Hux asks, his words nearly tripping over one another in their enthusiasm. “How many men have fucked you, Dopheld?”

“Twelve, sir.”

“I’m lucky thirteen, hm?”

“Yes, sir. Though I’ve blown tons more.”

Hux rests his forehead on Dopheld’s shoulder and rhythmically tilts in as deep as he’ll go for a full minute. Dopheld pants out a series of _yeses_ and _ohs_. Then Hux shows a bit of mercy and slows, lavishing Dopheld’s neck with kiss after kiss. Just when Dopheld is on the verge of begging him to go faster once more, Hux bites down on the spot between neck and left shoulder.

“Oh, _God,_ fuck, that’s it!” Dopheld yells.

“Mine now,” Hux growls possessively, dropping one hand to wrap his fingers around Dopheld’s leaking cock.

“Claim me, sir! Please!” Dopheld pleads desperately, grinding back onto Hux’s lap, underlining his need. “Leave a mark!”

The redhead’s teeth clamp down yet again, more viciously this time. Dopheld doesn’t care if it breaks the skin, not as long as he has this fierce pleasure-pain to revel in. Hux smears Dopheld’s precome over the head of his dick before stroking him so slowly and intently that Mitaka has to force himself not to rut into his hand like an untamed beast.

“Go on. Lose yourself,” Hux allows.

Dopheld cries out and shuts his eyes. Restrained as he is, with one of Hux’s hands gripping the handcuffs and the other fisted around his cock, he feels as though he’s rising off the bed, floating, flying even. “Sir, harder, please fuck me _harder!_ ” he screams.

Hux slams forward and back, using both his hands to keep Dopheld in place, to make certain the young man has no option but to take everything he has to give, until—

“Fuck, I’m close,” Hux warns. “Where—”

“On me, I want you to come on me,” Dopheld insists.

Hux nods once and gently guides Dopheld up onto his knees. Pulling the chain over his head, the professor inserts the key into the lock and releases Mitaka’s wrists from the restraints. “Lie down on your back, sweetheart,” he kindly directs his former student. Holding onto the edge of the condom, Hux pulls out slowly. The instant he’s clear of Dopheld’s rim, he tugs the barrier off and tosses it aside. Leaning over Dopheld’s body, Hux gazes down at him while he wanks furiously. “Christ, Dopheld, you’ve been so good for me. You’ve driven me right up to the edge—”

“Please,” Dopheld begs brokenly, his voice low and hoarse. “Please come on me, come all over me, sir. I want—No, I need it. Please, Professor Hux—”

“Dopheld!” Hux shouts as a jolt seems to run through his spine, causing him to go tonic-clonic just before his release begins to spurt across Dopheld’s skin, from collarbone to navel. Gasping, he leans down to press his lips against Dopheld’s ear and whisper, “Come for me, darling.”

“F-f-fuck,” Dopheld stutters. “Oh, God and Mary have fucking mercy—”

Fiercely declaring, “No mercy!” Hux bites down into the junction of neck and shoulder, the opposite side from his previous attack. Dopheld screams. Hux backs off a bit to watch as Dopheld shoots all over his abdomen, mixing his own seed with Hux’s. On a sudden whim, he cranes his neck to suck a dollop between his lips, then presses his mouth against Dopheld’s. His former student shudders against him as an aftershock pulses through his body.

With a satisfied smirk, Hux sits back on his heels and stretches. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he announces, “I’m going for a towel and cigarettes.”

“Thank _God_ ,” Mitaka groans. He isn’t looking forward to moving ever again, but logically knows that he shouldn’t let all this come dry on his skin. And the very mention of a cigarette has him intensely craving one.

Hux is only gone for a few minutes, during which time Dopheld looks around the room lazily, hardly raising his head from the mattress. The professor and his husband are clearly not hurting for money, but neither have they made their wealth conspicuous. Still, it’s all several steps up from how Dopheld was raised, where one functioning car per adult was a luxury ratio and all five family members scrambling for one water closet was a standard arrangement.

The professor returns wearing pyjama bottoms, holding a towel in one hand and two unlit cigarettes in the other. “They’re both mine,” he says by way of apology. “I didn’t want to go rummaging around your jacket pockets.”

“That’s fine,” Dopheld answers. “Thank you.”

Hux strides to the bed and hands over the towel first. While Dopheld slowly cleans his skin, the professor pulls a lighter out of the pocket on his pants and starts both cigarettes. “I don’t mind coming off as over-eager,” the redhead begins. “And thus would happily invite you over again.”

Taking one of the cigarettes, Dopheld lifts it to his lips and with a broad smile responds, “I’d happily accept.”


End file.
